


A Trick of the Light

by OrdinaryBird



Series: Too Much in the Sun [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Blood, Brainwashing, Consent Issues, Domestic Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Kevin is Inhuman, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, i'd like to apologize in advance, this is going to hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4186485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrdinaryBird/pseuds/OrdinaryBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't over. It can't be. Carlos--his Carlos--could not have written that letter and meant it.<br/>So Cecil goes to the desert to figure out just what he did mean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And Be A Villain

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me, fandom, for I have sinned.  
> Based on [this tumblr post,](http://arosebyname.tumblr.com/post/122024746567/i-want-a-fic-where-carlos-is-in-a-relationship) I took the challenge of "Kevin steals Carlos with the power of Evil, everything hurts." 
> 
> JUST A WARNING THOUGH:  
> This story, by its very nature, is going to deal with issues of consent. You kind of have to, when one of your main characters is brainwashed. I'll try to handle this as respectfully as possible. It may be distressing or triggering, so be safe. I don't know exactly how it will play out but I'll update warnings as needed.  
> There is also some domestic violence-type stuff  
> basically, proceed with caution.

“Did you crack it? What is it? Is he okay?”

Earl shook his head. He had that look on his face, one Cecil had been seeing for the last three days, since he got the letter, from everyone he’d showed it to. “Cecil. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He set the pages down on Cecil's cluttered kitchen table and shook his head again.

Cecil leapt to his feet and reached across the table for the letter that was just out of reach. “ _What did he do to him?_ ”

“Nothing. Cecil, there’s no message. There’s no code.”

Cecil grabbed the letter, crushing it slightly in his grip, staring at the perfectly formed, even writing. “No.” He shook his head. His vision blurred and he felt suddenly dizzy. “No, no, Earl there has to be something, he needs us, he needs _me_ , he needs me to save him--”

“Calm down.” Earl moved around the kitchen table, reaching for him. _Pity_ , that's what this was. They’d already given up on Carlos, all of them had. “Breathe.”

Cecil struggled to shake him off. “Don’t you fucking tell me--let go--I’m not giving up on him, I’m not, I won’t, I _can’t_ \--”

He tried to shove Earl away, to get out of the arms looking to provide comfort, as though there was nothing else they could do.

 

Carlos didn’t write this. Not his Carlos. It had to mean something--under and around the I’m-sorrys and it’s-better-this-ways, there was a message, or a cry for help, or some terrible warning. Carlos needed him to be _smarter_ , to _save him_ , and he’d let his darling Carlos down.

He wasn’t giving up. He couldn’t.

“Maybe I’m not--smart enough to figure it out. Maybe it’s based in science that’s beyond me. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t know what he’s trying to tell me, but whatever it is, he needs me.”

Cecil paused. He picked up his coffee cup. He put it down.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back, listeners. But I won’t come back alone. I have to go--I have to go out into that desert and save my boyfriend from--himself.” The interns watched him silently from the booth. They’d generally taken to hiding during the show. He knew why they were out today.

He cleared his throat. “Hopefully, it will be done...soon. For his sake. For mine. For everyone’s. Until then, I--” He cleared his throat again, blinked a few times, gave up. “I don't even know what to say anymore. Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.”

The wide, tense eyes of the interns followed him as he flicked off the microphone and gestured for them to meet him in the hallway.

“Listen, this time, do not let Leonard in the archives. I mean it. Put him in the booth, give him a cup of coffee and pull the clips yourself, got it? And don’t forget to feed Khoshekh. Don’t be shy, he hardly ever bites.”

One of the interns managed a nod. Most of them just continued to stare.

“Right.” There wasn’t much else to say. “Okay.” He started towards the door. It was done. He’d go home, pack a bag, start out early the next day--no, better leave tonight, no sense in--

“Mr. Palmer?”

He turned. The frightened pack of interns watched him. One said, and he wasn’t entirely sure which one, “good luck.”

Cecil attempted a smile. “Thanks. You too.”

 

His phone was ringing again. He’d been ignoring it since he left the station, but decided to risk a glance at it now. Ten missed calls, three new voicemails. And a few texts from Abby:

**Cecil. What the actual fuck. Tell me youre not actually doing this.**

**Pick up damnit**

**CECIL**

**CECIL GERSHWIN PALMER ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE OR I’M CALLING THE SHERIFF YOU THINK THEY’LL JUST LET YOU LEAVE??????**

**you could have at least told me yourself you little shit**

**janice is hysterical. You know she likes to listen to you. good fucking job. not how she should have heard this**

**ANSWER. YOUR. PHONE.**

He thought about calling back, but what was there to say? He continued packing.

When it started ringing again, he just turned it off.

He decided to leave as soon as he was finished packing. No point waiting around for Abby to make good on her threat, and if Carlos was in trouble, there was no time to waste. He’d thought Kevin might have had his situation under control, now, but clearly he was wrong and his dear Carlos was suffering for it and he couldn’t lose another second.

He locked the door, although it almost felt like it didn’t matter. But that was silly, wasn’t it? He was coming back. They were coming back together.

“Okay, what the shit was that all about?”

He heard a car door slam and looked up to see Abby running towards him, face like a storm cloud.

“This is ridiculous, and dangerous, and stupid, and Cecil what were you _thinking_ just announcing it to the whole town when you didn’t even tell your family?”

“You’d try to talk me out of it. I knew you would. Just like you are now. And it’s not going to work, so you should just give up.”

“This is stupid,” she said again, “and you’re an idiot if you think you can go out there and--and _change_ something. You can’t undo this, you can’t make up his mind for him.”

He pushed past her. “He’s in danger. I’m not giving up on him.”

“It’s _over_ , Cecil.”

He stopped. He did not turn. She was wrong, she didn’t know Carlos like he did.

“So I guess he’s an asshole who doesn’t know a good thing when he has it, and if he’s willing to just walk away like that, just cut ties, after all of this, he doesn’t deserve you anyway. He certainly doesn’t deserve you vanishing into the night, alone, to cross a desert and hear him tell you all these things himself.”

Now he turned. He stared at his sister for a long moment in the dying light of sunset. “I have to try, Abby. I just can’t believe he would do this, say those things, such vague and impersonal and--and _painful_ things. I just have to try.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“This is the most foolish thing you have ever done,” she said finally. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and turned back towards the road.

 

He walked. He walked for days, although in the never-ending brightness of the desert it was difficult to say how many. He walked until he fell, and then slept where he was, and then got up and walked again. He looked for the warring desert tribes to orient himself, or even just for a sign of life.

In some vague, hazy way he knew he was walking in the right direction. More or less. Maybe the radio waves from that cursed tower were pulling at his finer senses. Maybe on some level he could feel Carlos calling to him, waiting for him. Maybe his body just remembered the trail and decided to take over while his mind was busy tormenting itself with what he might find when he got there.

A small, bloodied huddle of a scientist, perhaps, nursing his wounds and waiting for rescue. Or some horrible Strex-induced fear or pain under the skin, in his head, some cruel emotional violence. Or maybe he was still playing along with Kevin until Cecil arrived to help him defeat that wicked little man once and for all.

He hoped, deep in the marrow of his bones and his tight, rapidly pounding heart, for the third option.

His chest constricted painfully when he saw the silhouette on the horizon. The tower, the twisted, frightful roller coaster, the tall buildings. And suddenly, he was afraid. Not sad, or worried. Genuinely scared.

Because this was the first time it occurred to him that he may be too late.

He did _not_ think about a still, silent pile of cloth and flesh in a puddle of blood, the abandoned remains of what had once been the love of his life. He certainly did not imagine red sticky clots in the dark hair, the body he’d called home rapidly cooling in the sterile white light of the persistent sun. And there was no way he would even _consider_ that infernal radio station streaked and smeared with a fresh mess of organic matter.

There was no reason to believe he might find a grave. If Kevin had hurt Carlos, he’d want to show off his handiwork.

He forced himself forward. “Just keep moving,” he croaked, realizing it was the first time he had spoken since he left Night Vale.

He saw none of the masked warriors he was anticipating, and his heart grew heavier with each step. _Maybe they’re off on some extended campaign,_ he told himself. _Or maybe they’re all sleeping. Yeah. Sleeping off a war._

And then he stopped thinking about them all together, stopped thinking about anything other than the streak of white he noticed to the right. He dropped his bag and ran.

“Carlos!” he called, as loudly as he could between his dry throat and his breathless panic.

Carlos didn’t move. He seemed to be kneeling on the ground, staring at something in his hands.

“Carlos!” Cecil called again, louder, and this time _a blessing on every mysterious light_ he looked up from his hands.

“Cecil?”

And he sounded _okay_ , he sounded healthy and alive and unhurt, his Carlos was okay _his Carlos was safe_ \--

“What are you doing here?”

Cecil staggered to a halt, heart fluttering, lungs aching. “Oh, thank the imperfect heavens,” he panted, “I’m so glad you’re safe! I didn’t figure it out, Carlos, whatever you needed to tell me I didn’t get it, but I came anyway, I came to take you home--”

“Cecil, you shouldn’t be here right now.” Carlos pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and although this face was neutral, Cecil knew it was a gesture of nervousness. “I specifically said you shouldn’t be here. It’s not a good idea. You should--” He looked quickly over his shoulder and his voice dropped low. “You should go back to Night Vale and we’ll pretend this never happened, okay?”

“No, Carlos, I can’t--I _won’t_!” Cecil reached out for his hand.

Carlos didn’t move at all. He looked at Cecil’s outstretched hand as though he’d never really seen it before.

“Carlos, please.” Cecil had not intended this to be a cracked whisper. “Whatever it is--whatever he’s done, I can help you. I’ll protect you. I love you and I won’t let anyone hurt you. But we need to leave this place before--”

“Save it.”

And that was a tone Cecil hadn’t heard in a while, and it had never been directed at him before. It was a tone that said _You’re wasting time I could be spending on science, and you’re not worth giving the time up for_. He stared at Carlos, looked around, looked back, searching for evidence that this was a dream, or that he’d stumbled into some defective subreality.

“ _What_?” Carlos crossed his arms, looked away. “What do you want me to say, Cecil? There is literally _nothing_ I can say right now that won’t hurt your feelings very badly, and the whole reason I told you not to come out here was so we could both avoid this, but _apparently_ \--”

“Oh, my goodness! Look at that. Company!”

At the sound of that voice, _that voice_ , Cecil suddenly felt like he was being pushed roughly into the ground by the top of his head. He staggered as he turned and blinked to clear his vision. Instinctively, even in his panic and confusion and hurt, he moved in front of Carlos.

“And here I am all disheveled!”

Kevin’s approach was slow and casual, hands in his pockets, like he wasn’t a dangerous blood-soaked monster bent on breaking all that was good and molding it anew to please his Smiling God.

“What did you do?” Cecil croaked, low and dangerous.

“Why, Cecil! You poor thing, you sound just awful! You should rest that...charming voice of yours before you get back to Night Vale.”

“What. Did you do. To him.”

“I could ask you the same question.” Cecil had never really heard Kevin emote, before. But there was a quiet anger in his voice. “But that would intrusive and rude!” He chirped suddenly. “And I think we can all agree opening that door would cause unnecessary pain for everyone. Right?” He tilted his head to look past Cecil’s shoulder.

“Yes.” Carlos was looking at his hand again. “So let’s not do that. Goodbye, Cecil.” He turned away.

“Well, let’s not be hasty, sunshine! He only just got here, and the poor man is a wreck.” Cecil didn’t realize it was possible for those horrid eyes, that vicious gash of a smile to be more cruel, but somehow Kevin managed it. “We should at least offer basic hospitality. We’ll find you somewhere to shower and clean up. You can have dinner with us! And then...we’ll find you somewhere to sleep.”

Carlos turned and walked towards Kevin, breezing right past Cecil like he wasn’t there. “You don’t have to do this, Kev,” he mumbled.

“Oh, it's no trouble! It’s bad form to turn away a friend at your door! And I’d like us to be friends, Cecil. And I bet Carlos might even be ready to try being friends too, someday. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.” He sounded sullen, and the word was like a knife twisted in Cecil’s chest, sucking the wind out of him. Carlos looked to the side, then back to his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Kevin asked.

“Oh, a lab accident, I guess I cut my hand open trying to clean up all those beakers Alicia’s dog knocked over, and I must have stretched it too far. Popped open again.”

Cecil could not, would not look at Kevin’s face. He’d caught a hint, just a second, of the riot of sinister bloodlust on his face and felt bile churn in his stomach. But he still saw Kevin take Carlos’ hand--his Carlos, his sweet naive precious imperfect scientist--and press his open lips against the cut with a soft smacking sound.

There was a second, a brief instant where Cecil was primed for an attack. If Carlos’ face had registered the slightest hint of pain, or fear, or disgust, or anger, he would have wrestled Kevin to the ground and hit him until he stopped moving.

But Carlos was not hurt. Or afraid. Or disgusted. Or even angry.

He smiled. He chuckled a little, and looked away, blushing. “Stop,” he whispered, and that modest grin directed at the ground was something Cecil was intimately familiar with--it was the face he’d made when Cecil sent him an innuendo-laced text message or kissed his neck in public, a look of shy delight.

And then he ( _oh no oh no no_ ) leaned forward and hid his flushed face in the base of Kevin’s neck, so sweet and so shy and Cecil lost his balance and stumbled, slightly, seeing his innocence so perverted by this--this--

“I gotta go.” Carlos apparently addressed this remark to Kevin’s shoulder. “I’ll--I’ll see you later.” He retreated in silence, probably for the safety of his lab.

Cecil watched him leave before turning his attention to Kevin.

“You,” he hissed. “ _You._ ” The words he'd intended to follow that tangled in his throat and hit against the lump that threatened to become tears of rage.

“You know, I wasn’t sure what you saw in him, at first,” Kevin said, casually chipping dried blood off one of his fingernails. “But now, in this light, I understand why you fell in love so fast.”

“If you touch him--”

“Hmm?” Kevin turned toward Cecil, all false innocence, as though he hadn't heard him.

“Don’t you put your hands on him.”

Kevin’s brow contracted over the empty horror of his eyes. “Cecil, that’s awfully possessive of you. You should take some time, while you’re here, to meditate on your possessive and controlling nature, and the role that might have played in the end of your relationship.”

“Shut up,” Cecil snapped. “If you influenced him in any way--if you’ve drugged him, or brainwashed him, or--or used your voice--and you touch him, I swear on all the mysteries of creation I will kill you.”

“Don’t worry,” Kevin said brightly, “I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t do!”

“Don’t you dare _don’t you fucking dare_ , I am _nothing_ like you.”

“Oh, right. Of course not. I guess it was just luck, then, suddenly getting his attention, very abruptly falling into a relationship that, let’s be honest, _really_ worked in your favor. I’m sure you’ve caught plenty of flies without ever using that honey voice.”

His smile seemed to widen, although it didn’t seem to Cecil that he could possibly have enough face for that. “Hey, the apartment next to ours is open. We can be neighbors! You should go and clean yourself up a little, I think. I’m heading back to the radio tower.” He strolled off, hands in his pockets again, radiating smugness and cruelty. “Feel free to drop in.”


	2. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (okay this chapter is pretty heavy, so proceed with caution. ALSO if you think it needs any other tags or warnings feel free to let me know and I will add them)

“You poor dear. You’re so tense!” 

Carlos winced as Kevin squeezed the tight muscles of his shoulders. 

“You need to relax. That brilliant mind of yours can’t get results if you’re so uptight.”

The hands on his shoulders turned him around, and he leaned back against the counter. 

“Come on, sunshine,” Kevin said sweetly, “let me see a smile.”

And Carlos smiled. 

Kevin smiled. Kevin was always smiling, and that was great--he was steady, predictable. Safe, in a way. 

“Now,” Kevin said, looking towards the door, his hands still on Carlos, “weren’t we expecting a friend for dinner?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he gave up, maybe he’s on his way back to Night Vale.” Carlos laughed nervously. “That might be too much to hope for, though.”

“Remember, Carlos, we invited him over,” Kevin said, and there was a bit of laughter behind that smooth voice. “We owe it to him to be good hosts. Even if he did show up unannounced. And...confused.”

There was an accusatory note in that (Wasn’t there?). Carlos chewed his lip and looked away. “I don’t know. I should have--I guess I could have worded things more strongly. Been more direct. I’m sorry. It’s my fault he’s here, I should have been able to make him listen.” He turned away again. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s alright, my little darling.” Kevin wrapped his arms around Carlos’ waist and pulled him close, away from the damp cloth he was using on the counter. “Nobody’s perfect. I’m _sure_ you did your best.” 

Carlos nodded.

“Didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s all that matters.”

Carlos exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Everything would be fine, everything _was_ fine. He could calm down now. He could relax.

At least as soon as Cecil went home. 

And that was all so frustrating, because it was _just like him_ to do this, to assume he knew what was going on and blunder thoughtlessly in his direction, playing at being a hero. He wanted things to be so simple, so black and white, and they just _weren’t_ , and now Carlos had to sort through the fallout, deal with Kevin’s--

\--help his new partner deal with this intrusion into their lives.

“Are you planning to be up all night working?” Kevin asked. He pressed his lips lightly against the back of Carlos’ neck before releasing him. “I really do think you need more sleep. You look so worn out all the time! I’d hate for you to work yourself into a state again.”

“After dinner I’m going back to the lab,” Carlos said, carefully folding the cloth to give himself something to do. “I’ll sleep there.”

“So industrious!” Kevin said brightly. “I’ve always admired that about you. But I wish I could see more of you.” 

“I have to check on a couple of experiments, but...I guess I can come back here after that.”

“Stay the night?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He smiled, his cheeks growing warm. “I’ll stay the night.”

“Oh, good!" Kevin grinned wider. "I worry about you when we're apart, you know. You're worth worrying about."

 

He'd started having problems a few days after Cecil returned to Night Vale. He was working on his research like always, keeping an eye on his warrior friends and making coffee and highlighting things on printed graphs. 

It was strange, at first. Kevin asked him all kinds of questions, the kinds of questions Cecil never thought to ask. He never quite figured out why they were relevant, but in retrospect it was nice, probably, to have someone paying so much attention, so genuinely interested in all those little details.

But then, he started getting crushing headaches. He tried to work through them, although Kevin suggested he rest more, that his cumulative contributions to his field would increase if he wasn’t periodically brought low by pain.

He didn’t tell Cecil. Now he wasn’t sure why--maybe he didn’t want him to worry, maybe he expected him to overreact. Or not to care. Or to demand he come home, immediately, where he could be watched over.

And then, one afternoon, he woke up on the floor of his lab, his lip bloody and his eye tender and bruised. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, or what knocked him down, or what he hit on his way to the floor.

Kevin insisted on bed rest. Kevin took care of him, and didn’t ask anything in return. He didn’t really ask anything at all, and for the first time Carlos thought _this lack of expectation is nice_. Cecil would have hovered nervously around the bed, feeling his head and slipping sprigs of rosemary into his socks and waking him every two hours to make sure he hadn’t gone comatose. Cecil would have helped, but he needed something in return: his eyes would be wide with fear, seeking reassurance, confirmation that in the end everything would be fine.

Of course it would be fine. That’s the first thing a scientist is. If Cecil hadn’t figured that out by now, well, there was no hope for him.

“You’re so patient with him,” Kevin said one evening, sitting with Carlos outside the radio tower and waiting for the rumbling to start again. “Even with all the inherent flaws in your relationship and his unreasonable behavior, you keep trying to make it work. I really respect that about you.”

Carlos had never thought of it like that before. 

“You have a really high threshold for inconvenience,” he said, at some other point. “It’s admirable. He’s so hot and cold! Now he wants to so much attention, tomorrow he’ll want _space_ , next week, who knows? I couldn’t put up with that!”

“I’m very interested in the results of your research.”

“Is there something I can do to help?”

“Oh, he hasn’t called back yet? That’s so thoughtless. Here, let me give him a try.”

“You should let me do that for you.”

“Now Carlos, listen to me. You remember what happened last time. You just let me take care of you.”

After the second blackout, something snapped. When he was being honest with himself, he still wasn’t entirely sure what.

 

“I guess we can finally give up waiting on him,” Kevin said softly, glancing to the door one last time. “I bet he was just _wiped out_ from running across the desert like a man possessed. Jealousy does horrible things to a person.”

Carlos exhaled heavily, again not having realized he was holding his breath. “Maybe he’s on his way back,” he whispered again, and then looked up suddenly, nervously.

“Carlos,” Kevin said, in a slow, sweet voice betrayed by the tightening of his fist on the tablecloth. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to--”

“My sweet sunbeam. My desert flower." Kevin spoke carefully. “I care about you _so much_ , which is why I am trying _so hard_ to stay calm and not overreact.” 

Carlos knew the unspoken end to that thought: _I can keep my emotions under control. You’re lucky to be with me, not with someone so unpredictable and sensitive. I could just as easily_ not _stay calm._ “I know,” he mumbled, looking away and rubbing the itching scab on his palm.

“Good.” He got up from his seat and walked around the table, then leaned on the arm of Carlos’ chair. One of his hands slipped up the back of his neck and scratched his scalp, and the other gently turned his face until they were eye to eye. “No secrets and no lies, remember? _What aren’t you telling me?_ ”

Carlos couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. He felt so _guilty_ , suddenly, so horrible. “I guess I just realized that I still...kind of...miss him. I know I shouldn’t. But I do. It’s so stupid.” He shook his head at his own folly. “I’m so _stupid_.”

Kevin placed both hands on the arms of his chair and turned it towards him, suddenly. The strength of his compact form often caught Carlos off-guard, and he gasped at the speed with which he was moved. “Such a sweet creature,” he cooed, “even after everything that happened. You’re too kind, that’s your problem. I _understand_ , Carlos. I know exactly what you’re feeling!” He slipped forward and straddled Carlos’ lap, resting lightly on his knees and running his fingers down Carlos’ chest. “It wasn’t all awful, with him. It was good enough that you thought you loved him, anyway. He wasn’t always being needy, or demanding, or self-involved or petulant or stubborn. Just because something’s bad for us doesn’t mean we stop wanting it!” He placed a hand under Carlos’ chin and pushed it up slowly, meeting his lips with a feather-soft kiss. “I forgive you.” He paused for a second, and when he spoke again Carlos was relieved to hear the teasing tone. “You’re not going to run off with him, are you?”

“What? Oh god, no.” Carlos laughed and shook his head. 

“Alright. As long you’re not leaving me. What would we do without each other?” He smiled and kissed him again, harder. 

Carlos had once been a good Catholic boy, back in the depths of his youth. He didn’t remember much more than a bit of Latin and the smell of the candles, but he understood, now as he did then, that after the confession comes the penance. 

 

_Hi Sunny Hunny~_

_I have a couple things to take care of and I didn’t want to wake you up. Hope you had a good nap, and I’ll see you tonight after you check on your experiments!_

_Your ever-faithful  
K_

Carlos read the letter again, and again, and one more time to be sure he understood. _Okay. Lab. Research. Here._

But was there a certain time he should be back? It was going to be at least an hour. Maybe more. Better check.

**Hi! Any idea what time you think you’ll be done?**

He waited for a response while he packed a bag--water, towel, safety goggles, fresh lab coat. He took a second to stretch, setting his foot on the coffee table and leaning forward in hopes of popping his hip joint. He considered reminding Kevin of the limits of human anatomy, then dismissed the idea. When the answer didn’t come, he texted:

**If I’m not home when you get there you can come by the lab**

And then, after a moment’s thought:

**< 3!**

Right. No more need to worry about that, for now. It was his favorite time of the day, and he was going to enjoy it. It would be good to get away from the pressures of that day in particular, to stare into beakers and flasks and light bunsen burners and record results. Cecil and his persistence couldn’t bother him there, and Kevin...well, he was anticipating Kevin.

He threw his bag down by the door and walked to the lab tables. He missed his rats--initially they were for experiments, but he loved them so much he just kept them, sweet little friends waiting for him in their cage, not asking for anything but the chance to sit on his shoulder and hide yogurt treats in his hair. He missed Sven most of all, who’d been with him through so much and would be a great comfort through--through all the problems--the problems that Cecil was causing. Right now. The only real problems he had. 

He heard a footstep and froze.

“No,” he said out loud. “You did not. I refuse to accept that you did.”

He turned abruptly toward Cecil, whose face was set in a look of cautious reproach. _How dare you leave me,_ he was probably thinking. _How could you?_ But Cecil said nothing.

“Did you actually just break into my lab? Do you think somehow that’s going to impress me?” He turned back to the table and started pulling beakers from a box. “Go away. I have science to do.”

“Carlos, just listen to me. Just hear me out--”

“No.”

“--and I’ll go away. If that’s what you want. Just listen to me first.”

Carlos turned again, knocking a beaker off the counter and catching it clumsily. His head felt swimmy and he was so--so _angry_ \--

“Listen to you? Why? So you can lull me to sleep with your sweet words? Read me the traffic report and the Community Calendar until I follow you back to that dystopian hell like a puppy that you haven’t kicked enough?”

“I just want to talk to you--” Cecil reached forward, as though there was even a vague possibility that Carlos would take his hand.

“--and that’s what I’m afraid of!” Yes, he was sure, with the certainty of a scientist, that Cecil talking was something he should be afraid of. “I figured out how you work. I formed the hypothesis and Kevin confirmed it. I never thought you’d do that to _me_ , I thought you actually _loved me_ \--”

“Carlos! Oh my sweet Carlos, I did love you--I still love you--!” 

“--but you did, and you would, and _you’re doing it right now, aren’t you?_ ”

Cecil straightened and dropped his hands to his sides. “No.” He sounded--defeated. Exhausted. Hurt, maybe. But Carlos figured he better not trust it. Cecil was a good actor. Pretending to give a shit was basically his job. “I never used my voice to influence you. And I never, ever would. There was a time you knew that.” He sighed heavily. “If I was doing that, to you, right now, why are we still here?”

“Because I know what you’re up to,” Carlos snarled. Okay, so he wasn’t totally sure that the voice trick didn’t work if you were expecting it, but it was at least a good bluff.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out without a thought. Cecil would just have to wait before he continued his ranting.

**Yay! On my way in a minute :***

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Cecil crossed his arms and adjusted his posture, leaning heavily on one leg and cocking his hip outward. And to think there was a time Carlos found his mannerisms charming. “Is your new boyfriend on the way?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, he is. And you shouldn’t be here. There will be--”

“--consequences?” Cecil spat the word out like it didn’t matter. “What, he comes in here and sees me, and he _smiles_ and _smiles_ and you pay for it later?”

“Get _out_.”

Cecil seemed to soften, just slightly. It had to be a trick. “What does he do to you, Carlos?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Get out of my lab.”

The softness seemed to evaporate as quickly as it arrived. “If this is what you want--or anything, whatever it is that you want--I will walk away. If you’re happy and safe I don’t care if you _never look at me again_. But think on this. If you were really happy, would you be this afraid?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You’re terrified! Look at you, you’re shaking!”

“I am _angry_ because you broke into my lab to shout at me!” Carlos pitched his voice low, hoping Cecil would perceive a danger he wouldn’t be able to make good on.

Kevin was right. He saw that now--he was right about everything. Cecil was bossy, and irrational, and controlling, and stubborn. _It’s totally normal to make excuses for someone like that_ , he’d said. _Eventually you’ll get over him and then we can really be happy!_

“You don’t belong here,” Carlos said, and all his muscles were tight. “Go home, Cecil. Go back to Night Vale. Whisper your sweet words to some other scientist--you know there will be more. Go back and leave me in peace.”

There was a knock at the door in a familiar pattern.

“See?” Carlos pointed to the door and tried to stop his hand from shaking. Cecil was right about at least one thing: Kevin might be upset that he was not alone. “At least he knocks. Come in!” 

_Focus on that, on privacy, on personal space, on boundaries, shut him up shut him down make him go away--!_

“Hellooo?” Kevin called as he poked his head in. He noticed Cecil, and his face didn’t seem to change. Good sign. “I didn’t expect you to be here. Did you skip dinner for this?” He clicked his tongue. “That’s very rude. You didn’t even warn us. I’d made enough for three.”

“Cecil was just leaving,” Carlos said coldly.

“No I wasn’t.” 

And that was just like him, just fucking like him, willfully ignoring the social conventions for his own benefit. “Yes,” Carlos hissed through his teeth, “he was.”

Cecil made a big show of planting his feet on the ground, his arms crossed again, watching Kevin with distrust. 

Kevin, to his credit, just shrugged and carried on like he wasn’t there. “Did you finish checking up on everything?”

“No.” Carlos deflated. His one refuge, his only place of peace, sullied now. “I didn’t even get to start.”

“Oh no,” Kevin said, and Carlos felt a hand in the small of his back, rubbing small, soothing circles. “I hope you didn’t lose any progress. Your research is so important.” He looked towards Cecil innocently.

And Carlos was suddenly angry. Well, angrier, anyway. Cecil had ruined _everything_ and he didn’t even seem to care, he just stood there staring at Kevin. He’d said this was about Carlos, made a big deal about getting him back to Night Vale, but it wasn’t about that. He just wanted to start some sick competition with Kevin, and Carlos had been set up as the prize.

That meant he’d _lied_.

No relationship was perfect, he knew that, there were always flaws. But he and Kevin had one rule: no secrets, no lies. It was a sturdy foundation he could stand on. Certainty. Security. You can’t love someone unless you’re completely honest, unless you lay yourself bare to them, expose everything, offer up all you have and give them room to destroy you with it.

And just as suddenly, he wanted--needed--to hurt Cecil. Rip his deceitful foundation out from under him, show him that he'd lost Carlos for good. 

“I’m sorry about your work,” Kevin said. “We can go through the experiments together, okay? Will that help?”

Carlos shook his head. “No. This will.”

And he pulled Kevin close, very close, their bodies pressed together, and kissed him. Kevin made a little noise of surprised delight into his open mouth, and he felt a hand slip up to the back of his neck and pull him closer.

He parted his lips, accepted the aggressive push of Kevin’s tongue.

That was insufficient. He felt his hands tense into fists at his sides and forced them to relax. Instead of tightening around his labcoat, he slid his arms around Kevin’s waist and pulled his hips suddenly forward, pressing hard towards his. Distantly, as though through a layer of cotton wool, he felt Kevin’s hands slide up his body, and back down. 

“Oh,” Kevin whispered, eyeing Cecil as he pulled away. “But we’re being impolite.”

Cecil did not look at them. He’d turned his head away, attempting a stony expression. Carlos watched his adam’s apple bob again and again as he swallowed. What was his face doing? It was definitely doing something, or trying not to do something. It wasn’t anger, or disgust. He breathed heavily through his nose, like he was afraid to open his mouth. He raised his hand towards his face, then dropped it again, shaking his head slightly.

“We’re sorry, Cecil. We hope you can forgive us a little indiscretion.” Kevin's hand rested on Carlos' hip, and he gave an affectionate squeeze.

But Carlos did not feel sorry. 

He was sure, with the certainty of a scientist, that he felt nothing at all.


	3. Penance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter gets violent and psychologically abusive.

Cecil pulled a shirt from his bag with shaking hands, smashed into a ball, stuffed part of it in his mouth, and screamed.

He screamed until his throat stung, until his lungs ached, tears streaming down his face while he stared ahead, vaguely, at nothing. He sat in the sand, just outside of what he assume were the limits of this pile of forsaken stones. He heard Kevin’s saccharine voice in his head, offering him one of the apartments in that building. That was where they were. He did not think about what they were doing. About what he was doing to Carlos. About how he’d convinced Carlos he’d wanted it, or his tired eyes, or his slumped posture.

He remembered the nasty little smile on Carlos’ lips, one arm still around Kevin’s waist, and the sobbing started again.

He screamed himself hoarse and cried himself into exhaustion, then curled up in the sand, holding the now very damp shirt in his hands. 

There was still hope. It wasn’t over. Kevin couldn’t have him forever, there had to be something he could do.

He wondered, once, for a second, if his voice could overpower Kevin’s.

He wondered, for a long time after that, just what differences there were between himself and Kevin.

He was sure he didn’t fall asleep, but somehow time passed while he stared blankly ahead, trying to think.

“Cecil.”

He blinked. His eyes felt dry and his body ached. It was difficult to place the voice. Stiffly, he raised his head and turned.

Above him, blocking out the sun, was Alicia. They seemed worried, shifting from foot to massive foot. “You should talk to me.”

He pushed himself up with shaking arms and struggled to his feet. Alicia, frowning slightly at the state of him, simply leaned down and picked him up. They pushed his head against their shoulder and carried him as they walked away from the little town.

“It’s best if we’re not overheard,” they said. 

“I’m sorry,” Cecil mumbled, although he wasn’t sure what, exactly, he was apologizing for. Everything, probably. Alicia did not respond, and he gave up, sitting limply in their arms.

After a short walk, they set him down on the sand and sat carefully beside him. 

“You can fix your tiny scientist,” they said bluntly. “I think I’ve figured it out, but I can’t do it.”

Cecil snapped to attention. “What? How? Tell me!”

“Calm down, little radio-man,” they said. “Doug went to get you some tea. You drink that for your throat. You will need your voice, probably.”

“No. I’m not doing that. Not to him.” 

“Hopefully you won’t have to,” they said. “But it might come to that. You need to be ready if it does.” 

“I won’t.”

“Kevin will kill him. Even if he doesn’t mean to, and even if the body keeps moving, Kevin will eat away at everything that makes up your tiny scientist. He will become a little shell. If you want him to survive, you sharpen every weapon you have.”

They pointed out over the dunes. “Look. Doug has the tea. You drink it all.”

“Tell me what we have to do!” His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, which he knew was not helping his argument.

“After the tea.”

Cecil pulled his glasses roughly off the end of his nose and huffed, then polished the salty tear spots on his shirt. “How about you tell me _while_ I drink the tea.”

“Okay. And then you’ll sleep.”

Cecil turned and stared, not realizing for a second that he’d dropped his glasses. “You think I can sleep right now?”

“Have you slept since you got here?”

Cecil didn’t think the vacant staring on the hill counted. “No,” he admitted.

“We still have to gather information, but our plan to do that needs you in top physical form. Since that’s not going to happen we need you as close as you can get to that. That means tea, sleep, and food. We start tomorrow at noon.”

“You said Kevin would kill him!”

“We have time.” Alicia sounded awfully sure, and stared out at the approaching figure again. “He is safe for now while Kevin is still trying to impress you.”

 

“Why, hello, Cecil!” Kevin was in his usual smug, chirpy mood. He swiveled his chair around and tossed a small bird skull from hand to hand. “What brings you all the way up here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I have lunch plans with my boyfriend. I couldn’t possibly let him down. _Trust issues_ ,” he added in a stage whisper.

“Cancel them.” Cecil ignored the jab. Unlike everything Carlos had said in the last twenty-four hours, he knew that was definitely untrue.

“Why should I?” But Kevin’s eyes seemed to sparkle in their unsettling way. He wasn’t the type to turn down an opportunity to gloat. 

“Because I need you to explain to me why I haven’t killed you yet.”

Kevin grinned at him and set the bird skull down on the desk. “You know why, Cecil. You know.” He stood suddenly and pulled the bloodstained jacket off the back of the chair. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

On the way down the stairs, he called Carlos. “Well hello there sunshine!” he said. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I’m gonna have to pass on lunch. I _know_. Aww, don’t be sad!” He looked over his shoulder, probably to see how the conversation was landing with Cecil. “You cheer up right now. Can I have a smile? You are? Oh, wonderful! I’ll make it up to you later, I promise. Mmmkay. You too. Bye!”

They finished the descent without speaking. Kevin hummed cheerfully under his breath. Cecil swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and tried not to think of what that _you too_ was in response to.

“So!” Kevin slowed his pace to walk in step with Cecil, hands in his pockets. “You want answers you already have to questions you don’t really care about.”

“Oh no,” Cecil said. “I do care. Trust me.”

“But you know what happens if you destroy me now. There’s no hope, then! As it stands, I may get tired of playing with him and give him back. I can’t do that if you kill me.”

Cecil was relieved, at least, to hear him drop the sick pretense of actual affection. “You won’t.”

“Hmm.” Kevin shrugged. “You’re right. I probably wouldn’t. He’s too much fun. Such a sweet guy! So eager to please.”

“So if I strangled you right now,” Cecil went on, his jaw tight, his hands in fists at his sides, “it wouldn’t matter one way or the other. He still wouldn’t come back. He would still hate me. He would still believe every lie you told him.” 

“Oh, now that isn’t _fair_.” Kevin seemed genuinely insulted. “I didn’t lie at all! You gave me all the raw material I needed. Just a hint of persuasion and he found most of your glaring personal flaws himself! Well, maybe more than a hint." He smiled coyly in Cecil's direction. "I’m really good at what I do.”

“Here’s another thing I don’t understand.” _Stay detached. Keep him talking. Breathe._ “You--you have him. For now, at least, you’ve got him under your control.”

“I sure do!”

“Then why do you terrorize him?” Cecil snapped. “What do you get out of making him so afraid all the time? He’s scared to breathe around you. Do you just get off on the fear?”

“Well, that doesn’t hurt,” Kevin said, nudging Cecil with his elbow like they were old chums. “But you know. It just makes them...easier to steer. He keeps needing me, he keeps looking for my approval. He stays close all on his own, I don’t have to track him down. And it’s also hilarious! Ever see him trying not to cry?”

In that moment, there were three impulses in Cecil’s mind. The first screamed _beat him to death and damn the consequences!_. The second said _run and find Carlos, drag him out if you have to_

The third whispered, in Alicia’s cool voice, _do what you came to do._

Kevin continued talking while the debate raged on, seemingly oblivious. But his smile was just a bit wider, his eyes just a bit more narrow. “You know how powerful fear is. It’s your stock in trade, too. Oh, don’t look at me like that! Don’t tell me the beloved Voice of Night Vale hasn’t figured out how it works yet. You think it’s a coincidence that instruction from the City Council or the Sheriff always follow a frightening development?”

“It’s a frightening world,” Cecil said quietly. “What about you? Your syrupy voice oozing out of the speakers, did your relentless optimism scare the people of Desert Bluffs?”

“You know something, Cecil, I think I overestimated you.” Kevin eyed him shrewdly.

Cecil, however, squinted into the distance. Doug trudged towards Carlos’ lab, cradling his right wrist. The signal would come soon, after Carlos patched him up and gave him a little lecture about bow safety and not practicing with battle-ready weapons. 

“I have another question for you: why don’t you kill me?”

“I would _never!_ You’re my guest!”

“Don’t give me that shit. I could just as easily have been your prisoner or your hostage or your next--next _toy_. What are you getting out of this?” He set his jaw and looked ahead, watching the building. Perhaps Kevin hadn’t seen enough old movies to know that his tendency to monologue would someday ruin his cruel plans. 

“I _won_ , Cecil.” He grinned his evil grin and slapped Cecil on the back. “I didn’t just hurt your or defeat you. I left you whole and unharmed and I still won. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure someday I’ll have your heart on my bedside table, but in the meantime, I broke you with barely the slightest effort. Your most precious thing just walked away from you, and I’ve laid claim to him. Even you have to admit it’s very...tidy.”

“But you know I’m going to find a way to stop you.”

“Oooh, I’m sure you’ll try. Tenacious one, you are! I’m excited to see what you come up with.”

They stood in silence for a few moments. Kevin started to stir and Cecil tried to find something, anything to say, but all he had left was _I’m going to kill you, I’m going to kill you_ on a loop in his head. 

Doug emerged from the lab. Cecil’s heart lunged for his throat. 

“Better go check on the boy,” Kevin said cheerfully, over his shoulder. “you know how he can be. Talk soon, Ceec.”

Cecil forced himself to wait. He counted to ten. Then, again, to twenty. Just to give Kevin enough time to saunter out of sight.

And then he ran.

In a distant, hazy way, he knew this was going to haunt him later. His was a sedentary job, and he’d been very unkind to his body lately. But he didn’t care. He had to beat Kevin to the lab, and he had twice the distance if he wanted to reach the back of the building without being spotted. He skidded to a halt and pulled open the window he’d forced the day before, climbed in awkwardly, the exhausted muscles in his spindly legs finally giving way, stumbling over his feet--

\--and was pulled roughly to the side, behind a shelf. A large hand covered his face, although it was possibly only trying to secure his mouth.

“Watch,” Alicia breathed. “Don’t move. Don’t speak. This is a battle. Don’t sacrifice the war.”

They released him and looked through a gap in the cluttered shelves. As quietly as possible, Cecil inched things out of the way to create a space on a lower shelf that he could see through.

“It’s going to hurt,” Alicia hissed, blunt as ever. “Be mindful of what he does. Put your feelings away for now.”

_Yes, I’m sure it’ll be that easy._ Cecil rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

Carlos, in the other corner of the large room, looked--like himself. More like _his Carlos_ ; his back was straighter, his head higher. He looked less afraid, and very, very thoughtful. 

And maybe a little angry. Not the blind, hysterical rage he’d shown the day before, the lashing out of an animal in a trap, but focused, concentrating. 

There was a knock on the door, a jaunty and familiar pattern. Carlos turned, but said nothing. After a moment, the door opened anyway.

“Hello hello!” Kevin chirped, peeking coyly around the door. “I’m sorry I had to skip lunch, but you know all about the little _distraction_ that’s wandered into town.”

Carlos was still quiet. He looked thoughtful, but unafraid. _Run!_ Cecil screamed in his head.

“Don’t you worry,” Kevin continued. “I’ve dealt with him.”

“What did you do to him?” Carlos sounded oddly distant. He shook his head quickly and blinked behind his glasses. 

“I just made sure he knew it was over. That you were _mine_. And I’m yours. That he should give up his misguided white-knight quest and leave the prince with his dragon.”

Cecil tried as hard as he could to smother the tempest in his chest, to only watch, to learn what he could. He tried to absorb every detail of what was happening. Carlos pushed his glasses out of the way to rub his eyes, and as they fell back into place on his face he slid his hands into the pocket of his lab coat.

“What’s the matter, sunshine?” Kevin crossed the room, reaching a hand out. Carlos took it thoughtfully, stared at it as though it were foreign. His right hand was still in his pocket. “You look tired. I told you, you work too hard.” 

Cecil bristled silently as Kevin’s other hand snaked it’s way up Carlos’ back to scratch lightly at the base of his skull, then creep down past his waist. Carlos’ face was set. No response.

“Why don’t you just come back home with me and I’ll put you to bed.” He didn’t seem to notice that Carlos didn’t change at all, and the realization that _he didn’t care if Carlos was present or not_ flared rage in Cecil’s stomach. He clenched his teeth. 

There was maybe an inch between them, between Carlos’ blank, slightly confused expression and Kevin’s vicious simper.

In a sudden movement, Carlos closed the gap, pulling his hand out of his pocket. Something shined silver in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Kevin dodged, looking about as surprised as his twisted face could manage. But his movements were slick and practiced, and in a split second he had grabbed the descending arm and twisted it behind Carlos’ back, forcing his hand to open. Something metal clattered to the floor.

“You little slut.” Kevin sounded almost playful. He shoved Carlos’ elbow up.

Carlos cried out, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“You let him whisper in your ear? Tell you he’ll rescue you and take you home where it’s safe, as long as you fight his battles for him?” He pulled Carlos close and said, “Sometimes I think I should just give up the game, now that he’s here. But I couldn’t choose, who gets to die and who gets to watch. I’d decided to just go back and forth between the two of you. But I’ll start with him, I think he’ll last longer and I bet you’ll beg first anyway.”

Carlos wrenched his arm free and turned, stumbling. “ _Cecil!_ ” 

It was a scream, and in that scream was terror, and he needed him _Carlos needed him to come and save him, he needed--_

Something grabbed his arm and yanked him roughly back.

“You have a short memory,” Alicia hissed.

Cecil struggled to get out of their grasp, and Carlos screamed for him again. _No no I’m here I’m coming for you I’ll protect you--_

“Battle or war?” they snapped.

Cecil sagged in their grip and watched helplessly through the shelves as Kevin grabbed something off the table--a compound microscope, Cecil realized dimly--and smashed it against the side of Carlos’ head.

He staggered and fell.

There was a strange muffled sound, and Cecil realized it was his own choked sob, stunted by Alicia’s grip.

Carlos tried to push himself up again, and there was a thick trail of blood down his face from his nose, a wound dripping from the side of his forehead. “Get away from me,” he shouted. He looked up, weak and shaky though he was, defiant to the last. “You vicious son of a bitch, you monster, you bastard, one of us is going to destroy you, you won’t win--”

“After all the things I’ve done for you, everything I gave up, you repay me like this?" Kevin kicked at him, and Carlos took the blow without cringing. "Selfish boy! You and Cecil deserve each other. But I’m not done playing with you yet.”

He grabbed a fistful of Carlos’ hair at the base of his skull and scruffed him like a cat. 

“Cecil--!” 

But he couldn’t shout for help, couldn’t raise his voice. Cecil fought the impulse to run to him. He was fairly certain that at this moment, even his exhausted body could beat Kevin to death with one of the many heavy objects in the lab. _Battle. Battle. War? War. Battle? War._ The words slipped through his mind without meaning.

Kevin slammed him down face-first over the table. Carlos struggled against the pressure of Kevin’s body bent over him. 

“Stop. Moving.”

And that tone--that tone pulled Cecil out of his fear and pain and desperation, because it was dark and thick, molasses poured slowly over the brain. It was a tone Cecil had used exactly once, before he understood it, and then never again. It was a black marker redacting reality.

It was complete control.

“You know that no one loves you but me,” Kevin went on. “You know no one could. Not after what you’ve done. And you know he certainly doesn’t--”

“--no--” And that was the weakest, most defeated sound Cecil had ever heard, a last gasp against dying light, one final denial of the dark.

Kevin pulled up with the hand gripping Carlos’ hair and slammed him back down again. “--he just wants to take you from me. He doesn’t care about you. He wants to win. And we both know I won’t let him.”

Carlos choked out a sob, mumbled incoherently.

“I know you’re trying so hard to be good.” Kevin added a bit of honey to the sinister sound of his voice, moved his lips close to Carlos’ ear. “I know that, deep down, you don’t want to be bad.”

Cecil watched, silent and fearful, as Carlos collapsed under the weight of that voice, shaking his head weakly. 

“I know you’d never even think to talk to me in such an… _uncivil_ tone.”

“I didn’t mean it _I didn’t mean it--_ ”

“I know you’re sorry.”

“Please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry--”

“You know I’ll forgive you.” Kevin relaxed his grip on Carlos’ hair, caressing the back of his neck and the base of his skull. Cecil felt his eyes glaze over, his mind drift off, and pulled himself back by force. The only thing he could do was watch, get as much data as he could. He owed Carlos that much, at least. _War. War._

“Forgive me! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, _please_ \--”

“And we both know you’ll make up for your behavior later.” A long, thin finger swept across Carlos’ face, pulling the blood that had poured from his nose into a swirl on his cheek and then down his jaw.

“Anything, oh my god, I’ll do anything, please just don't leave--!”

“We’re okay, now. You know that I love you and you know how to behave, so we’re okay.”

“Thank you, I’m so sorry, I--I love you, _I’m sorry--!_ ” His voice rose to a shriek and he moved, almost convulsively, against the table, screaming sobs.

“Hold _still_.” Kevin pushed down against his head again, pushing his face into the table. “You know you’ve been very, very bad. You know it’s going to hurt.”

Just sobs. Cecil begged silently to every star in the heavens, every deity looking on in disinterest, that he would say something. Anything. Just to prove his brain was functioning, that Kevin hadn’t destroyed that beautiful mind, that precious soul, that there was something to save.

“I know he’s not going to take me away from you. You know he only wanted to hurt you, to claim you. You know you weren’t happy. You don’t trust him, do you?”

“I hate him.” And that Carlos _spat_ between clenched teeth in a spray of blood, and sobbed hysterically, mumbling pleas and promises, in what could only barely be described as words.

“Hush, now.” Kevin stroked the side of his face, trailing a second line of blood. “Be a good boy.”

_No no no_

But despite Cecil’s internal pleadings, Carlos was silent. He trembled, his face tight and pained, but he said nothing.

“Let me see a smile.”

Cecil closed his eyes, but the image of the rictus grin persisted, as though it were printed on the inside of his eyelids.

“Good.” Kevin kissed his cheek, his forehead, slid his tongue across the blood-smeared temple towards the streak of grey Cecil had pressed his own lips to countless times. “Very Good.” 

The caresses he made--tracing softly around the wounds with an almost reverent air, his shaky breathing and sighs--made a mockery of love. It was done, now, anyway, he’d seen what he needed to see, heard what he needed to hear. Cecil closed his eyes and noticed, for the first time, the hot tears on his cheeks.

“Go to sleep,” Kevin whispered, and his voice carried through the silence of the room. Cecil opened his eyes.

Kevin set Carlos on the floor, face down. Then he shook him.

“Come on, sunshine, wake up,” he cooed, as Carlos started to move. “I told you work too hard. What might have happened if I didn’t come to check on you?”


	4. Almost Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Implied sexual assault, nothing graphic but if you'd like to skip it it's the third section and you won't miss anything essential to the plot that won't be examined later)

Carlos _ached_.

He was not as young as he’d once been, obviously, and he was working very hard. His research was important, after all. But he had never ached like this. Gingerly, he touched his temples and felt the vein throbbing under the skin, his fingers brushing the bandage on his forehead. His neck and shoulders were tight (that was where he held all his tension, Kevin said), and there were other aches and pains, spread everywhere and varying in intensity. He could hardly move his right arm at all. 

The previous day was mostly a blur.

“What happened?” He couldn’t see Kevin, but knew he would be somewhere nearby. He was reliable like that. He kept an eye out, always knew where Carlos was.

“Oh, the same old song.” It took him a second to place the voice to the chair at the foot of the bed. “You work yourself into a state of exhaustion despite my best efforts to take care of you, and of course you’re under so much more stress with our _guest_ around, bothering you. And then I find you on the floor and bring you back here and take care of you.” Kevin sighed. “I am a widower to science.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlos croaked.

“Don’t even think of it,” Kevin cooed. There were footsteps, and then he was beside the bed, gingerly running his fingers through Carlos’ hair. “It’s not your fault. I’m not angry at all!”

Well, that was good. Carlos resolved to keep it that way. 

“You should stay here for a few days,” Kevin said, and waved off Carlos’ attempts to disagree. “I insist! I can’t imagine leaving you alone for an instant until I know you’re safe and well. And I’ll bring you soup and read to you and sing you songs and--” he trailed off with a roguish smile.

Carlos felt his face flush and he looked away, barely able to suppress a smile despite feeling suddenly queasy. But head wounds caused stomach aches, didn’t they? That was probably it. He was sick with pain. “How long was I out?”

“A couple of hours.” Kevin shrugged. “But you’re all right now. Go back to sleep, my sweet one, I’m here to take care of everything.”

 

“We probably shouldn’t.” 

Kevin pouted. He had a profound pout, for someone who was always smiling. He was so nice about things, all the time. And Carlos felt awful denying him anything. Lovestruck, probably.

“I’m sorry. My head is still pounding and I can’t see straight. Did I break my nose or something?”

“No,” Kevin said slowly, “I checked that. Obviously. Of course I would check _that_! It’ll heal up just fine, and we’ll preserve that striking profile of yours.” His fingers trailed down Carlos’ cheek, tracing a swirling pattern, and he bit his lip slightly. “If you’re sure. I’d never do anything against your will. You are sure, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I just feel awful.”

“That’s alright!” Kevin chirped. “Don’t you worry about it. Maybe later.”

“Yeah.” Carlos closed his eyes and pulled Kevin’s hand away from his face to hold it in both of his. “Maybe later.”

 

He did not feel well. At all. His head had started to clear for now, but there were things he didn’t--his own stupid fault, really, he should have known what he was capable of doing. A scientist who is not fine, who can’t handle himself, is no scientist at all. 

He pushed it away. It was fine. Kevin’s arms were around him and he could feel the even breathing against his neck. His body ached and his eyes watered and he wondered, vaguely, how things had escalated. He wondered if Kevin had noticed that he--

_Stop making excuses. It’s not his job to watch you. You’re an adult. You could have stopped things at any time._

And anyway, it hadn’t all been bad, right?

It was fine. He was fine.

 

“Carlos? Carlos, wake up!” 

“Hey, baby, what’s the matter?” Carlos struggled to open his eyes and reached to take the hand that was shaking his shoulder.

“We have to go.” Kevin looked...angry. Very angry. 

Carlos sat up quickly, trying to ignore the spinning in his head. “Where? What’s wrong?”

“Your friends?” Kevin spat the word. “Well, some friends they are. They’re working with him. You need to leave or they’ll take you away.”

Panic and rage and hate swirled in Carlos’ chest. Betrayed! By the only people he--well, aside from Kevin of course--that he trusted. 

But there was no time to think of that now. He struggled into clothes, wincing, and let Kevin lead him out of the apartment.

“You wait in the basement. If I don’t come to get you in fifteen minutes, go to the radio tower and wait. Go!” Kevin pushed him towards the stairs and turned away.

Carlos was struck with the impulse to thank him--he knew what Kevin was risking, just to protect _him_ \--but there was no time. He staggered down the stairs as quickly as he could.

But he didn’t have his phone. There were no clocks in the basement. And of course he’d foolishly given his watch to Cecil, back when he thought that relationship would go somewhere. How could he gauge the passage of time? If the timing wasn’t important, Kevin wouldn’t have said anything, would he?

Carlos nervously twisted his fingers into the hair at the base of his skull and fretted. If he could just clear his head, he could find a way to scientifically determine how long he ought to wait. But he couldn’t calm down.

_Damn you,_ he thought, scowling at the floor. _Damn you directly to hell, Cecil Palmer. I wish I’d never set eyes on you. I wish I’d never heard you speak._

He sat as long as he dared before looking for a way out. He figured if he could get up there, he would just about fit through the small, high windows He took one as last look at the door before jumping up toward the windowsill.

He pulled himself up laboriously. His right shoulder protested--he must have pulled it somehow. When he fell. It hurt so badly his vision blurred and his eyes teared. He gritted his teeth through the pain. His feet scrambled on the wall for purchase.

_You have to be strong now,_ he heard Kevin’s voice say in the back of his mind. _You have to fight for this, prove what it means to you._

He got his chest through, and reached his left hand behind to push on the outside of the wall, pulling the rest of his body out of the narrow gap. He fell and rolled onto his back, panting and holding his right arm against his chest.

_Turn. Get up. Move._

He struggled to his feet and everything spun. He staggered and fell against the wall of the building, gasping. _You have to move now, Carlos._

He staggered forward, blindly, in the vague direction of the radio tower. He was going to make it. He would. They would be together. Safe. Somehow. They would be safe there, or they would die there, but they would go together.

A strangely peaceful thought.

He stumbled on.

“Carlos!”

He whirled so suddenly he nearly fell, and caught himself in time to dodge Cecil’s reaching arms.

“Would you just--oh my god, what happened to you?”

“I’m not going with you,” he spat, trying to keep his sore and sluggish limbs out of Cecil's grasp. “You go back to Night Vale alone, or you carry back a corpse.” He turned and tried to run. 

Cecil grabbed him and pulled him close, wrapping his arms around his chest. Something he hit stung, and Carlos cried out. 

“Let me go!” He kicked his feet and felt himself lifted slightly off the ground. His heel connected with Cecil’s shin and he heard a hiss of pain. “ _Kevin!_ ” he screamed.

“Carlos would you just fucking--”

And then, Cecil stopped. One of the arms around him was pulled back, slowly. Carlos spun out of his grip but fell with the momentum of the movement. 

Cecil was still, staring at his hand.

There was blood on his fingers. 

“What happened?” He repeated softly.

“Don’t you try to trick _me_.” Carlos pushed himself away across the sand, resolved to stay down only until he could stand again. “Like I’d believe you really cared--you just want the leverage, as though a little laceration is somehow proof of--of anything.” He was vaguely aware that his sentences made little sense, but the hate behind them was a force all its own, pushing words out like bile. “I hate you. You _disgust_ me. I never loved you at all. I thought I did, but I never knew you. You can’t love a liar, Cecil! And you could not have possibly loved _me_. So what did you get out of it? Why did you string me along? You _used me_ and I don’t even know _why_!” He closed his eyes for a second, suddenly dizzy again. “Were you bored? Did I entertain you? Was it _fun_? Did I--”

“Carlos, hold still.” Cecil’s wide eyes were still focused on his bloody hand. He wasn’t even listening! All that huff and puff about his feelings and he wasn’t even listening!

“Do you think I’m just going to _give up_? Let you rip me away from someone I care about, someone who I can actually _trust_ , someone who might actually be able to love me? You’re delusional, you’re sick, you’re-- _don’t you touch me!_ ”

Cecil was kneeling in the sand in front of him. Carlos kicked at his outstretched hand.

Cecil leaned back and raised his shaking hands in surrender. “I’ll stay here,” he whispered, “and you stay there, okay? I won’t--I won’t try and make you leave again. But you need to be still. You need to--”

“--listen?” Carlos snarled.

“--relax, you’ll only hurt yourself worse.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Carlos growled, forcing himself up on his elbows and then to his feet. “I have always _been_ fine, a scientist is _always fine_ you _stupid_ \--”

He swayed, his head spinning. He blinked to clear the black spots that spread like a pathogen across his field of vision. 

“Carlos!” 

He collapsed against Cecil, who put his arms around him, and he was so gentle about it. He didn’t even have the decency to really restrain him, as if to say _you’re so pathetic right now I don’t even have to worry about you escaping my pale imitation of a lover’s embrace._ He struggled weakly.

“What did you do to me?” He choked out.

“Oh, my poor Carlos--”

“Shut up! I was--I was fine! You tricked me, you manipulated me and now you turn your big sad eyes on me just like you always did--”

“I didn’t do anything.” Cecil’s voice was soft, and almost genuinely concerned. “You’ve got...all these little--” He looked away, blinking rapidly. He’d even managed to squeeze out a tear. “He hurt you, Carlos, and I don’t know how badly but you’re bleeding a lot and you need to let me help you, get you somewhere safe--”

“No!”

“Carlos, you could be very badly hurt, you could--”

“Then just _go away_ , Cecil! Go away and let me die. I’d rather be dead than go back there with you, let you control me again, make me believe your lies--”

“You need to be still, Carlos--”

He felt the wet, sticky shirt clinging to his back, his skin was clammy and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. It would be worth it, dying like this, snatching victory from those greedy hands just when he thought he’d finally won. 

But not like this. Not with those soft fingers brushing hair off of his face. (He remembered kissing those fingers, once, centuries ago, relishing the feel of them on his skin.) Not with that voice whispering “shh, you’ll be alright, I love you, even if you don’t believe me I love you and I’m going to help you”. (The first time Cecil said “I love you”, directly to him, with no audience in between, he’d whispered it against his forehead after a kiss, thinking he was asleep.)

He pushed away, hard, rolling off Cecil’s lap and dragging himself away. Let the hot, gritty sand wrap itself around him, let the sun kiss him before he drifted off.

There was a sound behind him--perhaps anger, perhaps anguish. Frustrated at what he thought was his moment of triumph. Carlos dug his hands into the sand and pulled, as hard as he could.

“Carlos.” The voice was direct. Authoritative. Something he’d only really heard from Cecil while he was at work. “Be still. Don’t move.”

Carlos tried to reach out again, but found he couldn’t. The signals weren’t reaching his nerves, the muscles would not contract. 

Before it was over, before his eyes crossed and closed and he couldn’t open them again, he heard him whisper, “I’m sorry.”

 

“It was fourteen hours.”

Carlos, heavy-eyed, exhausted, aching, knew that voice. It was Doug. 

_Traitor_.

He pretended he was still asleep.

“Couldn’t have been,” and that was Cecil, and Carlos bit the inside of his cheek to keep his face still. He cracked his eyes open, just slightly.

“It had to be longer than that. There’s no way--that’s not a temporary effect. Unless you’re reeducated-- _heavily_ reeducated--or reconditioned by the speaker, you don’t just shake that off.”

“We checked.”

“It couldn’t be.”

“It was fourteen hours.”

So he _had_ tricked him, or at least tried to, ordered him around with that wicked voice. And it hadn’t worked! That meant he was safe, and when there was a chance he could get back to Kevin, back where he belonged. 

“Within a _mile_ of each other?” Cecil, a ghostly shape silhouetted by the sun, shook his head. “Impossible. No one can do that in fourteen hours.”

“Remember,” said another voice, and that was Alicia, and Carlos silently cursed them, “we’ve been watching. We saw it happen before. It wasnt...as difficult as it was, when you were there. But we’d seen it fade off, and seen him brought back under.”

“This is ridiculous. How is that even possible?”

“You know better than us. Do you do that?”

“ _No._ ”

There was a tense pause. 

“Once,” Cecil corrected. “I was only a kid, I didn’t know! And I wasn’t the only one in town with a difficult destiny laid out for them on the tablets at City Hall, but I don’t think people really...understood. What it meant. To be the next in line for something like--to grow up knowing that you--” He made a strange growling noise.

Always feeling sorry for himself. What a fucking jerk. _What did I ever see in him?_

“But yes. I did once. And _never again_. Certainly not enough to figure out why this--why he--”

“Forget _why_ ,” Doug said, “that doesn’t matter. You know _how_. You just have to wait.”

There was a moment of quiet. Carlos let his eyes slip closed fully, acknowledged his exhaustion for a minute.

“Don’t fret,” Alicia said, and there was a rustling sound. “He’ll be fine. He’s small, but resilient, and it wasn’t as bad as it looked. I cleaned them while you were asleep.”

“I could have stopped all of this. I know it. If I’d tried hard enough I could have--”

“Stop. The past means nothing, right now. We will stay with you as long as you need, but you have to keep moving forward.”

“You should probably go back. Check on the others.” Cecil sounded tired, and suddenly old as the hills. “And see if that weasly little son of a bitch survived. We’ll be alright.”

“He won’t be alright for another ten hours. And that's assuming time cooperates.”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s so...fragile, right now.”

A plan started forming somewhere in the back of Carlos’ exhausted mind, and he wasn’t sure when he fell back to sleep, but the plan was ready when he woke up again.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake--”

He sounded almost _bored_. And that was not what Carlos wanted to hear from the person he was trying to throttle.

A warm hand pushed against his face, up and away.

“Would you just stop it?” 

They scrambled together in the dark, Carlos kicking at anything soft that came his way, feeling his arms wrestled behind his head, a hand tangle in his hair, pulling him back--

He froze. He wasn’t sure why. But he was still, terrified, waiting. He didn’t dare to breathe.

The hand was retracted almost immediately. “Are you okay?” Cecil asked softly.

Carlos’ lungs didn’t want to work. His face was in the sand and he was leaning heavily on his injured shoulder. His other arm was pinned over his head. 

“Carlos, please say something.”

“ _Fine_ ,” he grunted finally, through clenched teeth. “I’m _fine_.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Well, obviously.” He squeezed his hands into fists and tried to pull away. “Wasn’t that the point?”

“The point was not to die.”

Carlos fidgeted uncomfortably. “Let go of my hands, please.” How embarrassing, that he could be restrained with just one hand.

“Are you going to stop?”

“I won’t lie to you, Cecil. At the very least, I’ll give you the courtesy you never gave me.”

Cecil made a sound--some sort of an exhausted growl. “ _Just stop it_ , Carlos. Please. I am so tired and I miss you so much and I can’t hear this anymore, will you please just--”

Was he crying? He was definitely crying. What did he have to be upset about? As far as he knew, he’d won. He’d gotten Carlos away from safety, away from Kevin, and was dragging him back to Night Vale. Cecil would find another way to hypnotize him, now that the old standby apparently wasn’t working, and Carlos would live the rest of his life in passive submission to the whims of this strange little man.

Maybe he was starting to work on him already. That was it. And that was why Carlos felt a little spark of sympathy.

He didn’t show it. He stayed still, tried to breathe evenly, to give away nothing. 

After a long moment, the hand loosened from his wrist. “It’s not like I could believe you right now anyway. You’re clearly so desperate to crawl back to hell.”

Carlos pushed himself up and sat, trying not to let the pain he felt register on his face. He watched Cecil in blow his nose loudly, drag his wrist over his eyes. Then he pulled something out of the bag and tossed it to Carlos. “You should eat something." He sniffled a bit, then cleared his throat loudly.

“I don’t trust it.”

“It’s a granola bar. I got them from Alicia. I’m not sure how they got them out here, unless someone threw a bunch over the wall and they--nevermind. Point is. Eat it.”

“No.”

“It’s the kind you like. The really crunchy peanut butter ones.”

“You tampered with it--”

“Carlos, it’s still in the wrapper--”

“--so you can knock me out and take me back and do--whatever.”

Cecil eyed him coldly, threateningly, but didn’t move. “Eat it.”

“No.” Carlos crossed his arms. “You can’t make me.”

“I could, but I won’t. Important difference between me and your beloved Kevin.” He sounded hurt. And angry. “Anyway you’ll need your strength if you want to try and kill me again.”

Carlos looked away.

“Will you please just eat the goddamn thing?”

“Tell me what you did.”

“Carlos, for the milliionth time, I didn’t do anything to you--”

“You told them you’d only done that once. Whatever it was. Tell me about it.”

“Why? Are you looking for ammunition? Because I’ve got some bad news for you, _sunshine_ , you can’t possibly hurt me any worse.”

“Well, there is nothing you can say that could make me think less of you.” Carlos reached over and picked up the bar in a show of good faith.

Cecil made a sound that was half-growl, half sigh, and rubbed his fingers nervously through his dirty, mussed hair. “I was...fifteen. And everyone knew, since, basically forever, that I had a Destiny. Capital D. I was a skinny, short, awkward kid with a stupidly huge crush on his best friend, but I was also the heir to the voice of Night Vale. My brother was jealous. He thought I was spoiled, because he didn't understand what it was like to live that, every day, all day. I don’t think he understood that I didn’t want it, I didn’t want the prophecies and the stupid training all the time. I’d just wanted a normal life, a normal childhood, and I couldn’t, and--on top of everything--”

He huffed and pulled his knees against his chest. A compact and vulnerable position. He’d be easy to unbalance and take out. But Carlos didn’t spring. He tore open the little packet in his hands and broke off a piece of the granola bar. 

“One day he was pestering me. Pushing me around, saying rude things. And I said--I said, ‘Go away. Go. Away.’ And--” He laughed, a shivery, humorless sound, exhausted and shrill. “--I don’t have a brother anymore. I was only a kid! I didn’t know--I couldn’t--”

“Where did he go?” Carlos asked, chewing as quietly as possible. 

Cecil shrugged at the ground. “Who knows? No one even remembers him. I forget him, a lot, but that’s probably the guilt.”

They were still for a moment. 

“You should eat something too,” Carlos said finally, “you look terrible.”

 

“Don’t go back there.” Cecil did not look at him, just stuffed things in his backpack hurriedly, like he was trying to keep busy.

“What?”

“When we get back home--back to Night Vale, I mean, you can go. Pack up and go wherever you came from, or somewhere else, or--fucking-- Svitz, I don’t care. Just...don’t go back to him.”

“Is that a command?” Carlos asked nastily.

“You can barely walk, Carlos!” Cecil turned to him, gesturing wildly in his rage. “We could have been back by now, but you’re weak and hurt and still fighting me _every step_. He did that to you. And I know he’s done other things, because I know what he is! I could survive losing you forever. I could not survive knowing what he did to you, knowing that you never--”

He stopped short, growled, kicked his bag, and sat heavily on the ground. He covered his face with his shaking hands.

“I watched you break, Carlos. I saw you shake, and cry, and plead for that monster to forgive you. I won’t let you go through that again--I can’t--”

He paused and looked up at Carlos.

“If you still hate me when we get back, just go.”

“What if I did go back? To--”

“Then _I_ will come back. And I will find you, and I will take you home. And we will do this over, and over, and over and over _and over_ until one of the three of us dies.” He sighed heavily and looked at the sky. “This should have been done by now. If they were right, you should have been okay yesterday.”

 

He was asleep.

Carlos risked exhaling. _He’s in a vulnerable position, you could take him out easy, grab the supplies and run--_

But he looked so calm. Peaceful. He’d seen Cecil asleep countless times in their previous relationship, but apparently had forgotten over the last month--

( _a little month?_ )

\--that he always snuggles up to something, and sometimes he laughs in his sleep but can’t tell you what he’d dreamed about the next day.

Maybe he could just leave. Just take the bag and go, and not kill him. Carlos had never actually killed anyone before and, now that he was feeling a little calmer, he realized he wasn't exactly eager to try it.

Carefully, silently, he crept toward the bag. Right next to Cecil’s head. Frankly he was lucky he was snuggled up to an old shirt instead of the bag. 

He stirred as soon as Carlos got a hand on it. Carlos jumped back, wincing, aching and expecting--what? An argument? A demand of explanation that wouldn't be good enough anyway?

He was fairly certain Cecil wouldn’t hit him--

Cecil stretched and blinked at Carlos, then smiled, rubbing his eyes. In his sleep he seemed to have forgotten the circumstances under which they were here. Then he sat up, blinked again, and his face settled into a kind of grimness as he remembered.

“I’m sorry--!” Carlos said hastily. “I wasn’t--”

“Here.” Cecil pawed through the bag, mumbling under his breath, and pulled out another granola bar. “Sorry, this is all I have left. I could have done a better job packing.”

“I wasn’t going to--”

“Carlos. It’s fine. You’re hungry. And I mean, at least you don’t think I’ve drugged them anymore.”

“Thanks.” Carlos looked away.

“So, we’ve passed twenty-four hours, sort of, with no attempted murders. Are you...okay?” That was--cautious optimism? 

Carlos sighed and snapped pieces off of his breakfast. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think anymore. I was so certain, and of course I had all this evidence to support my theory but now I can’t for the life of me remember what any of it meant. I’d never been so sure of anything in my life. I’m still not sure what to think.”

He looked down at his scabbed palm, and it somehow didn’t feel like his hand. He flexed the fingers, stretched them out wide, watched the injury pull, felt the sting. 

“Not after what I’ve done,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

Carlos looked up at Cecil suddenly, tried to guess what was behind the polite concern of his expression. “Nothing. Talking to myself.”

“We’ll get there soon. We actually made good time while you were still passed out. Doug carried you for ages. Don’t look at me like that. I ended up being carried for a bit too. Neither of us are in particularly good shape right now.”

_Look at you like what?_ He blinked and bit the inside of his cheek to keep a neutral face, at least until he had some clue what Cecil was thinking.

“I’ll be honest, I have no idea what comes next,” Cecil said. “I didn’t plan for--for what happened. At all.”

“But we’ll be back,” Carlos said, cautiously, risking a smile. “We’ll be home. And everything will be okay.”

“Well…” Cecil gestured vaguely. “You’re half right.”

“I’m--I’m confused.”

Cecil watched him carefully for a moment, following his face when he tried to turn. What was he doing? What did he want? Maybe Carlos shouldn't have been confused, maybe he should be certain--

“Breathe, sweetheart. You’re almost there. It’s almost over.” Cecil smiled. “And then we’ll go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a wild ride, you guys. I'd like to say thank you for going on this evil, angsty adventure with me, and also I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, our poor feelings oh my _god_. There will be another multi-chapter fic on the way to put things back together. I promised us a happy ending and we're gonna get it, damnit.
> 
> (Update: mr-reblogbutton drew [something glorious](http://mr-reblogbutton.tumblr.com/post/122525064082/there-was-a-scene-in-the-fic-a-trick-of-the-light) based on the GO AWAY scene and you should go behold its majesty.)


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